


the cold never bothered me anyways

by plinys



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 12:38:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11691804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: He hadn’t thought that he would be into this.





	the cold never bothered me anyways

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themidsummersoldier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themidsummersoldier/gifts).



> for brenna who kinda wanted ice dicks, and for gabbi who really wanted ice dicks

He hadn’t thought that he would be into this. 

That it was even possible to be into this. 

However, Caitlin had said that she needed to work on practicing control of her powers, and the offer had slipped out before he could stop it.  _ Anything I can do to help _ , a simple offer. One that he meant with his entire soul. Caitlin wasn’t ready to be back with the team, but she was back with him, sneaking into his apartment in the dead of night and insisting that she just needed to see him. 

So of course he’d offered to help. 

At the time he’d meant training.

Sparring, maybe, Vibe versus Killer Frost, a chance to get in some training of his own. 

Working on plans and methods for controlling her powers, not pushing them down completely like before but burning off that edge that made her eyes flash cold. 

Getting back together with the team, or with what they had left of the team, now that Barry was gone and - 

But then they’d been kissing and a hand like ice had slid down his arm and suddenly  _ this  _ was happening. 

He should have seen it coming really, they’ve used his powers before in moments not entirely unlike this one 

Mental links that made getting off a truly mind blowing experience. The smallest vibrations against her that caused her to arch off the bed. Brief trips to universes that didn’t know their names where they could press up against each other and not worry about anyone back home knowing or judging. 

It’s just he had more control over his powers, more experience, and his didn’t have quite the potential to be lethal.

Not that he was thinking about lethal circumstances. Now when he was down between his legs, tugging off his pants, two hands cold as ice, one on each thigh, sending shivers throughout his body, up his spine, to where his head could no longer think straight. 

Could only think about how much he wanted this.

This thing he didn’t know he had the ability to want until now. 

“God, Cait-” He says, about all he can manage, which seems not nearly eloquent enough in hindsight, but how is he supposed to handle this. How did anyone ever handle this. 

She surges upwards to kiss him for a moment and he is thankfully saved from having to speak for a moment. Saved by her mouth. His one sanctuary left. The one thing that feels just a breath away from death. He’s seen her do in, the other version of her, the one that had lived and died on Earth 2. Knows that if she wanted to she could steal his very soul with those lips. 

And yet, he only opens his mouth to let her in. 

Only reaches for her, for more of her, his hands feeling too warm as they trace over her skin. As they move down from her hair, around the curve of her neck, the swell of her breaths, the flat plains of her stomach and lower.

So that she is moaning against his lips.

An unbidden sound. 

He uses his powers, just a little just the smallest amount, there against her, and she presses herself greedily against the palm of his hand, needing more of what little he is giving her.

She tears her lips away from his for a moment, to say, “That’s cheating.” 

He shrugs, and stops. 

Which earns him a noise in response, desperate, and needy and, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Weren’t you always the one that told me not to cheat,” he says, ignoring the fact that she used to say that during board game nights or video game breaks, not when he has two fingers inside of her. 

She shoots him a pointed look. 

Not a glare.

Not quite, something softer, but almost mischievous.

Almost.

Because there’s the smallest hint of doubt there before she asks, “Do you trust me?”

He answers quickly and without hesitation, “Of course,” and “Always,” and “Do you trust me?”

She kisses him, and it’s not an answer, not really, but when she breaks off the kiss sooner than before, she sliding back down between his legs, telling him to just relax, right before there’s a breath of cold air against a part of him he never thought he’d want to have cold before. 

But there’s something about it.

Maybe it’s because it’s  _ her _ .

Because he wants  _ her _ .

Because he trusts  _ her _ .

But it does something to him, a cold fire that seems to rush through his veins the second her mouth is on him. His hips buck up instinctively needing more of that cool mouth. Needing so much more. Though he’s held in place by her hands on his hips steady and sure as she slowly works him over. 

It’s want and need and trust and he finds himself speaking without realizing it.

A broken mix of words. Her name mostly, desperate and over and over again, reassurances that this feels good and that he wants this, and encouragement. His voice breaks over the words, “I knew you could do it, I knew - knew you could control this - god, Cait - please,” a broken moan, forced out of him, “I never thought - I’d - that we could - that I’d get to. I’m so proud of you - I’m so - I think I might - might lo-” another moan cuts his words off which is probably for the best.

But when he looks down at her, she’s staring up at him with eyes too bright blue and a mouth around his cock, and he can’t handle it. 

“I’m - I’m so close.” 

She pulls off of him at that. 

And he can’t help but whine at the loss.

Though he doesn’t have to think that way for long before a second later, she’s pushing him back into the cushions of his couch, and straddling him, her legs blocking him into place as she slides down onto him with practiced ease.

Like they’ve done this hundreds of times before.

Rather than so rarely that he can count the moments on his fingers. 

Though that does not mean he does not savor each one. Does not remember each moment in great details. Does not lose himself time and time again to the feel of her.

To the way she moves now.

Selfishly for her own pleasure, rising and falling above him like a woman on a mission.

He’s not sure what role he’s supposed to play here.

But he threads a hand through her white hair and tugs just the way she likes it.

He kisses there against her neck, against the cool expanse of skin, not sweating even after all of their activities. 

He realizes that what he feels for her is more than just sex, and that he nearly told her that he loved her, and that he has no clue what any of this means. 

He holds tight onto her, when she stops moving so steadily, her legs shaking around him, her head tilted back, a broke noise that isn’t quite his name, but thankfully isn’t someone else's spilling from her lips.

He follows her there a moment later, two more thrusts and he’s gone, holding onto her is suddenly all he’s capable of doing. 

In a few minutes they’ll pull themselves apart. She’ll give him some sort of half apology rushing to put her clothing back on. He’ll remind her that the team will welcome her back any time. And they’ll both pretend that that is enough.

That this is enough.

But for a moment, they just lay there. 

Body’s pressed together on his couch, one warm and one cool to the touch, like fire and ice. 

Just for a moment, he has this.

He has her. 

  
  
  



End file.
